Aida's Awakening
by Bathmat
Summary: The Obernewtyn Herders are a'burning misfits and all of Aborium is invited - even the children.


Midday had finally reached the seaside city of Aborium. Thousands of people eagerly squashed into the tiny streets, following the crowds. Some wore bright colours, laughing and dancing across the road like newborn trout. Others resembled the gentle flow of a river, somberly going about their business. So many faces, so many people. Yet all of them. All of them were going to the Burning.  
  
Aida clutched desperately to her mother's skirts, trying not to get caught up in the flow of peoples' legs. At her height there were no faces, just legs going to and fro. to and fro. It reminded her of the priests waving incense in the cloisters. They had walked for quite a while, and her legs hurt. But the pain and aching limbs were worth it. She, little Aida, was going to her very first Burning! Even if she had a choice she still would have been one of the masses following the rest to the townsquare. Fancy being allowed to witness the purification of a Seditioner! A Lud-defying demon! Her father had surprised her though, by insisting that she went. "No girl understands evil until she sees it first hand."  
The thought of evil scared just as much now as it has two days ago. All her lessons had focused on the fear of the Great-White and how the Seditioners hated Lud. Lud! How could anyone hate the only salvation from death? It seemed like Aida's mother sensed her anguish and tightened her grip on her hand. But it was not so. They had just entered the townsquare, so tightly packed it outweighed even the largest of Moonfairs. Towards the centre of the square was a large wooden pier stacked with kindling and severed wood. No doubt this was where the Seditioner would be burnt! Aida let her excitement bubble, just as the people around them had. Here, in the very front row, she would not have to strain to catch a glimpse at the purification flames or the Herder performing the rite. No! She would watch from the safety of her mother's side. Gradually the square filled until it created a terrible din. Everyone was eager, everyone was waiting. She heard many a person speculating on the crimes of the Seditioner. "I heard she was a messenger for the Black Dog.Nay, she's a Misfit to be sure!" Misfit. All those around the man who whispered his conviction backed away slightly in repulse. Aida felt their hatred and mirrored it back personified.  
  
Suddenly the square went quiet. The anticipation grew to a frenzied silence as a small cart rumbled through an opening. All was still. People stepped back silently allowing the cart to pick its way through. The expectation simmered across the surface, unbearable for Aida who itched to join them. From one of the surrounding rooftops someone launched a rock. Its steady arc held the entire mob entranced. Slowly it cut its way across the sky. Aida held her breath. So slowly. Like slow motion, she watched in horrid fascination as it ricocheted into the wagon.  
  
The crowd erupted. It was like they had all eaten prickleberry. The quietest of individuals screamed, yelled and kicked, smashing their weight against the cart. Adults and children alike hurled rotten fruit and insults at the wagon. But nothing, nothing disturbed the Seditioner standing calmly against the penned sides. Her face was a mass of bruises and cuts and the Herders had made no attempt to hide their brutal punishment. Aida gasped. Mostly from exhilaration, but a little from shock. Here was a woman, despised and tormented from the moment of her capture to the hour of her death and she stood, with the bearing of acceptance. and calm. Slowly the wagon made its way through the crowds until jaltingly stopped in front of the pier. Soldier guards stepped up, one untying the Seditioners bonds, slapping the red welts that ran up her torn arms. Each slap bought a cheer from the onlookers, every wince of pain a scream of delight. Their glee washed over Aida and she yelled with them. With glowing eyes she watched as they hauled her off the wagon, she tugged excitedly at her mother's arm when they strung her up to the stake and she yelled with the hatred of the crowd as the Seditioner struggled even slightly against the bonds.  
  
Two acolytes murmured softly amongst themselves until the grey cloaked Herder raised his palms, slowing the crowds to uneasy whispers. Some even joined in to the chanting words of purification, Lud's call to banish the demon. As the prayer ended, a soldierguard stood. "This woman is hereby condemned as a Misfit." The crowds shifted hesitantly, fearfully ".and a murderess. Three lie dead by her black arts." Physically repulsed, the crowd backed a few centimetres. Aida clutched at her mother's hand. Murderess. Murderess. Misfit. Suddenly the Herder spat, faces twisted in loathing. "Die Demon! So long have you nestled in that woman soul that she has become one of your kindred. May the flames of purification drive you both in chains to your master." The Misfit just shook her head sadly. "I have no master. I did not mean them to die. I.. I was trying to stop them taking my child.." And just within Aida's hearing she added fiercely "You'll never know what it's like to have your life torn away, your family abandon you and the very authority who protected you demand your own child in payment. You can't kill me. I'm already dead." The last three words were spoken so softly not even a mouse could have felt them. The Herder spoke triumphantly, "The Demon does not even deny being a Misfit." At the word, the crowd shuddered involuntarily. Nothing more to explain. Misfit. He signalled for the acolytes to light the wooden pier. Smoke curled slowly upwards, unwinding itself like a blackened snake about to strike. Sparks glinted within leaves and tree needles. Quiet hung across the square, hushed expectance. Aida felt the brush of the wind against her skin and with its tidings, the kindling burst into flames. The Misfit flinched yet showed no other signs of acknowledgments to her climbing death. She said nothing, did nothing but let her eyes roam across the people's faces, as if searching for someone she knew. As the flames tickled her toes, the Misfit closed her eyes tightly as if she could blind herself to the fires that would consume her. In bated breath the mob waited for the flames to grow, to sate their hunger on her corrupted flesh. They showed no mercy. No love. Their interest was one of animal-like curiosity, one that tempted children to watch a spider eating an entangled insect. And Aida. Aida watched in morbid fascination as the flames licked and weaved around the women's calves. From were she stood, she could feel the heat radiating from the burning stack and only from where she stood could the Misfit's protruding tears of pain be seen.  
  
Pain hammered into Aida's head. Next to her a man had fallen, his head smashing against the cobbled streets. She could feel the feet pressing against his back as people stumbled forward to take his place. She could feel the surfacing memories of a man who'd watched his wife being burnt. And now he was reliving it. Because he had to. Tears streaked Aida's face. She could feel their hatred, their fear. She could feel the flames touching her toes, the bleeding gashes snatching lightning from the Herder's whips. She felt the three dying and the child reaching out for her mother's outstretched arm. She felt the woman's sadness, her grief, her acceptance of her fate. Suddenly, the woman's eyes opened. Clear and untouched by the flames that consumed her they gazed straight at Aida. They touched her soul. Pain. "You are marked." The Misfit's mouth never closed, but her scream reverberated throughout Aida's tiny frame. 


End file.
